Conversion

I went to a singing competition the other day. There was nearly a riot. Two lines of men ran onto the field, and already The quiet Was punctured, even before the teams took turns To bark Their national songs and instantly All round the park Voices joined in until a tide rose tight With the blood Of twenty thousand antipathies. Luckily, before The flood Could burst down the stadium's banks, the teams Swung low The pressure by throwing a ball around for an hour Or so.